


Aquisition

by Professor_Fluffy



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Bros Natasha and Steve, Dom/sub, Flashbacks, Handcuffs, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Fluffy/pseuds/Professor_Fluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve decides the only way to initiate a relationship with Tony is to offer himself up, assuming the best he'll ever get is a one night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aquisition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cluegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/gifts).



> This was my Secret Santa gift for the wonderful Cluegirl. Merry Christmas!  
> It's been cleaned up a bit since it was posted anonymously. All mistakes are my own.

Steve is kneeling, he’s folded his hands in his lap, palms up, the way Natasha showed him. He’s taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He can hear water rolling through the fountain behind him. He uses it to focus, letting himself fall into a light meditative state.

_I promise. I’ll be good. I'll be so good for you._

  He knows he can free himself. And he wants to. Wants to slink out. Pick up his clothing where it’s folded neatly on Tony’s Starks desk, and bolt back to his quarters, tail between his legs. But he’s stuck here. He's relinquished his power, given himself into Starks hands -- a decision he made the second he stepped foot in the man’s personal quarters without permission.  

He can hear Natasha whispering in his ear. “Don’t believe everything you read about Stark, but believe this. He wants you.”  

His wrists are bound together with thick leather cuffs lined with alpaca wool, because Tony Stark is a man who appreciates the finer details.   

His knees burn tremendously where they’re rubbing against the plush pile carpet.

Steve knows he'll be lucky if Tony doesn’t toss him right out on his ass but Jarvis has yet to set off any alarms, so he assumes he's in the clear, for now. He takes another deep breath and listens.

When Tony arrives, he doesn’t use the private elevator, he enters from the landing pad outside. The third point of entry, Steve knows, is the guest elevator, which involves retina scans, fingerprints, full body x-rays, and any number of other invasive scans. Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes are the only ones with access to Tony's private elevators. Even the Avengers use the guest elevators. 

When Steve arrived, he'd come in from the landing pad, with Natasha's assistance, her overrides giving him a window of thirty seconds to make up his mind. Let it never be said that he's a coward.

Tony skips the landing pad altogether, heading straight toward Steve. He’s got a plastic bag in his hands, and he tosses it on the couch, not watching where it lands.  

Steve bows his head.   

He can hear the hiss as the faceplate opens. “I should kick your pert ass out of my tower, Rogers.” 

Tony sounds furious. 

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't have Jarvis activate the alarms?"

"I'll give you two reasons," Steve says, quietly. "One, I'd have to break out of here through a window, and the press would have a field day if they got pictures of me hanging from your tower buck naked, Stark."

"And?"

"If I leave, you don't get to punish me." Steve shivers.

Tony’s eyes flash. He grabs Steve by the hair. The pressure, when it comes, is gentle for an Iron Suit, but tears still well in Steve’s eyes. Tony drags him toward his desk, and Steve scrambles to keep up, his raw skin dragging against the carpet in a painful burn. 

  “Stay here while I get out the suit. We’ll talk when I get back,” Tony says. His tone final.  

Steve waits almost an hour, humiliation washing over him. He doesn’t move a muscle. 

  When Tony returns, his olive skin is damp from the shower, he’s wearing jeans and a soft looking band shirt. His hair is spiky and mussed. He looks deceptively harmless.   

Tony grabs the bag off the couch, and sits in the chair next to Steve. “Never come in here without my permission again.” 

  Steve lowers his eyes, ducking his chin in acknowledgment.   

Tony watches him as he unpacks the bag. His meal is light, grilled chicken, greek yogurt, nuts and grapes, and small pieces of cheese. He picks up the cheese and holds it out, looking at Steve expectantly.  

Steve’s face burns with humiliation, and he begins to reach for the fruit. 

Tony’s eyes narrow.  

Steve catches himself in time, hands returning to his lap. He takes the piece of cheese delicately between his parted lips, letting Tony feed him.   

Tony makes a soft sound of approval and takes a piece of chicken for himself. He eats slowly, occasionally pausing to let Steve eat, feeding him small, choice tidbits.  

Steve eats the grapes with particular care, thirst prompting him to chase the juice on Tony's fingers with his tongue. 

Tony set the remaining grapes aside and fed them to Steve slowly, between his own bites of grilled chicken. 

  When Tony finished the last of his lunch, he swiveled toward Steve, a curious expression on his face. “Do you know what you’re doing Rogers?” 

Steve bobs his head once. "Yes," his voice sounds rough, lower than normal.

  Tony eyes him warily, “I’m going to need you to elaborate. Do you know the rules? Do you know what a safeword is?” He laughs then, and it’s less than kind.  

“I know you enjoy this,” Steve says, hands splayed. 

Tony opens his mouth to reply.

“I want this.” Steve does look at Tony then, challenging. 

  Tony arches an eyebrow.  

“You used to do scenes. It’s in your intel. You can’t deny this thing, whatever it is, between us. It’s something we need to work out.” Steve knows he’s got that stubborn expression on his face, and he could care less.

  But Tony just looks amused, and curious. Curious is good. “So you want me to fuck you up a little? Work you over? I thought I was the messed up one.”  

“It's something I think I would enjoy.” Steve said, contrite. “There was always this feeling, when I was fighting bullies, getting roughed up, it felt good. The adrenaline. I always went somewhere else in my head when I started to come down, and… getting fucked after.” Steve could feel the harsh scrape ask he exhaled, anger forcing the air out of his lungs in a quick surge, a combination of acute arousal and aggression, twisting his stomach into small knots.

  Tony leaned forward, interested. “I confess, I’m shocked.”

  “It's not anything I'm trying to hide,” Steve barked. “Bucky enjoyed it, we both did. I liked to be held down, needed to… to be punished for biting off more than I could chew.”  

Tony laughed, bright and clear, the first expression of genuine amusement since he’d landed outside.   "But you always went back for more."

Steve's brow furrowed, and he gave Tony a look that Tony was sure he gave people he was ten seconds from pummelling into the ground. He swallowed, shifting to adjust himself. “We’ve got rules now, Steve. You're going to need a safe word, or we're not doing this."

  "Understandable." 

  “Are you up for a scene today?” Tony asked, his expression carefully neutral.  

“Yeah,” Steve said, eagerness creeping into his voice. If he didn’t do this today, there might not be another chance.  He’d talked to Natasha, trained with her. She’d taught him words like owner, master, pet. He’d tried to make her stop at anything that sounded like genuine commitment, it wasn’t going to happen, so why lie to himself. 

Pepper Potts was the only woman Tony’d ever been serious about. If Steve was lucky, he could have a few nights, but he’d have to do everything right the first time. Tony’s eyes tracked his movement, the scrape of his knees on the carpet, the bit of hair that had escaped his neat part, where Tony’d mussed it.  

“Yeah, I’d like that.”  

“If I’d known you were planning this, I’d have been better prepared," Tony said, fingers scratching lightly against the wood grain on his desk. “I don’t exactly have a dungeon here in New York.”  

“But, I thought…”

  “Look Rogers, I don’t care what the tabloids say, I’ve been in a relationship for the past few years, and Pepper isn’t into this kind of play beyond a bit of light spanking, which is more than I should be saying as a gentleman.”  

Steve watched as Tony grabbed his tee-shirt by the hem, sliding it over his head with practiced ease. Steve watched the play of muscles, the soft line of dark hair, trailing below the waist of his jeans.   

Tony wadded the shirt in a ball, and flung it at Steve with a sharp wrist snap.

Steve snatched it out of the air. 

  “Fold that neatly, then crawl into my room and put it on the bed. If I go in there later and it’s wrinkled, I’m going to take it out of your ass.”  

Steve hesitated. 

Tony slid into his personal space like quicksilver, landing a stinging slap on his ass. He flushed and crawled toward Tony’s room, aware of his cock swaying heavily between his legs.

Tony followed Steve into the bedroom, toeing off his shoes as he walked, sliding one finger under his belt buckle and slipping it free. “Again, you’ll forgive the accommodations, but we’ll have to make do for now.”

  There’s an exercise bar hanging from the ceiling, probably so Tony can do chin ups in the morning. He’s got the arms for it, that’s for damned sure, Steve thinks appreciatively. When he looks back at Tony, Tony grabs the chain between Steve’s handcuffs in one hand. 

  Steve bows his head, holding out his wrists, and Tony tugs.

  “Place your hands on the bars, Steve,” Tony says, his voice low and menacing.

  Steve climbs to his feet, legs protesting after almost four hours, and goes up to the bar, gripping the cold metal in both hands.  

Tony climbs onto the bed, and slides his belt through the cuffs, jerking roughly until Steve is perched on the balls of his feet, off balance enough that he can really feel the stretch in his calves. His toes scrabbe for purchase. 

  Tony wraps the belt around his wrists, and secures it in place. “Don’t worry, Captain, it’s handcrafted, and that bar is reinforced, short of ripping the bar out of the wall, you’re not going anywhere. Then he drops to the bed and grabs his tablet off the table. “Hang around.”

  Steve tries to twist, tries to see Tony, and Tony swats him once, sharply in the ass. He doesn’t try again.He hangs there, listening to Tony laugh at some cartoon called Tiny Toons, while the muscles in his legs begin to tremble. A sense of peace washes over him. The burning fades, and the cartoons turn to white noise. But the time Tony hits the clicker, he feels glazed over, loose.

  Tony grabs his chin and looks into his eyes. His lips quirking upward. 

Steve stares back at him, stares through him. He wants this so badly. Just wants...

Steve’s startled by how loud the sound is when Tony finally slaps him across the face, rubbing his hand to dull the sting.  

Steve swings toward him, body taunt like the string of a bow. 

“Mmm,” Tony hums. “Good.”

    “Natasha sent you up here without a contract?”

  “She… uh,” Steve struggled to form words. “Said you wouldn’t.. not the first time.”  

“Yeah, well, that’s a calculated risk, based on the assumption that I’m a decent man.”  

Tony sounds bitter. 

“No, Tony, you’re not.”  

“Did I say you could talk?” Tony hissed. 

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this. I mean, I pictured something a little classier, dinner,maybe finger fucking you against the wall of some swanky theater, taking your virginity on a bed of white rose petals. Something a bit more Pretty Woman meets the Bodyguard, that sort of thing.”

Steve frowned. What the hell was Tony waiting for? They both wanted this. Tony could have what he wanted without the societal necessities, and Steve could feel something again, for a little while anyway. He wished Tony would just get on with it. He wished it would never end.

  “It’s just sex, Captain. Easier this way.” Tony ran a calloused hand over Steve’s flank. 

He walked to the men’s room and came back with an even thicker leather belt than the one binding Steve's wrists. “If we do this again, we’re negotiating your limits. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Tony.” Steve frowned.  

“Safeword?”

  His eyes fluttered shut, “Bucky.”

  “If I were petty, Rogers, I might mind that your safe word is another man you've fucked.”  

Steve glared at him. “Bucky protected me everyday of my life, it’s appropriate.”  

There was a soft wooshing noise, and the flat leather band blazed across his ass in a thick burst of warmth. He grunted, and precome dripped from the tip of his cock. 

“Don’t speak out of turn,” Tony snapped. “If I want you to talk, you’ll fucking know it.” Tony shoved a hand between his thighs, spreading his legs further apart.

  This time when the blow landed, it felt like there was blood rushing to every part of his body, like molten liquid warmth dragging him under. His limbs felt heavy. His cheeks burned. His whole body was on fire.

  “Next time I’m going to build you something special Captain, Tony snarled. I won’t give you the satisfaction of coming until it’s fucked you loose and sloppy. Would you like that? **Slap** Something to match your strength? **Slap** To hold you down. **Slap** You’ll feel so violated, warm and open, dripping wet. Begging me to fuck you.  

Steve moaned.  

Tony dug a fist into his hair and yanked hard. “You’ll enjoy it, and then I’ll brand you with my name? Would you like that? Make you mine.

  Steve wanted to sob. It would fade, whatever Tony marked him with, it would fade. He jerked as a sob tore it’s way out of his chest.   

Tony chuckled darkly. By the time he finished, Steve’s back was covered in thick red stripes. Tony licked a swath right down his spine and blew cold air against his sensitive skin. It felt so good, slender lines of ice against the firey hotness of his back, Steve almost came on the spot.  

“I’m going to release you now, Captain, and then I’m going to fuck you. Tony climbed back onto the bed, reaching for the leather binding Steve to the bar, his hands grazed Steve’s face, and Steve’s eyes widened. His teeth began to chatter as he stared at Tony’s fingers. He felt so cold, he couldn’t stop shaking.  

Steve felt Tony jerk, startled, then he was hanging naked over a precipice, and someone was reaching, reaching out to him, and he couldn’t, he was too cold, and he couldn’t reach their outstretched hand...

  Steve heard someone scream Bucky’s name, high and anguished, and with a cold start he realized that it was him. He thrashed blindly. There was something binding his hands. He couldn’t reach, he wasn’t going to be able to save Bucky. 

  Swearing, he wrenched his wrists down. He felt metal giving under his hands and he fell.  
 

 

   
Someone was screaming his name.   

When he woke his fingertips were icy cold, and his whole right arm felt numb. His back felt like it was on fire. Weirdly it was the firey sensation that was what helped him breathe and refocus. He ached everywhere. Someone needed him. They’d been calling, hadn't they?  

He opened his eyes.  

“Steve, are you with me?”

  Dark hair. Bucky.

  “I hear you Steve, I hear you. I heard you say Bucky. It’s ok, you’re safe. Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are?” 

Tony’s worried face came into view and Steve blinked trying to focus. “Tony,” he slurred. “Stark, your tower. Avengers tower.”

  Tony crawled closer to him. He had a blanket in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other.  

Steve let him tilt the bottle and pour a little into his mouth. He choked, startled by how icy it felt. “Coouh, too cold,” he managed. 

  Tony’s eyes widened. “Ok, no worries. I’ve got this. Here,” he wrapped the fleece blanket around Steve, and let Steve dig his fingers in, clutching the soft fabric to his chest. “Two seconds, ok, gimmy just, hold on.”  

Steve stayed quiet, staring out the window. He counted the seconds passing, then Tony was back, holding a warm thermos in his hands. 

Steve started to reach for it, but Tony just guided his hands around the bottle, tilting it up to his mouth. “Chicken broth,” he explained.

   It felt so good. Steve knew in some small corner of his mind, that this was aftercare. That Tony was doing this out of obligation, not affection, but Steve had been taking care of people so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to have Bucky wrap him in a warm blanket, to have his mother use some of her own ration cards so he could have something hot to eat after a particularly bad asthma attack.   

Tony’s hands felt so warm.   

He lost track of time for a few seconds, and then Tony was helping him sit on the couch, curling up around him so they could share body heat.   

“What do you need?”   Tony’s fingers through his hair felt gentle. He remembered in a panicked flare, he’d screwed up, he’d screwed up everything. Then Tony’s hands were there, soothing.   

“Shh, shh. It’s ok Winghead. Don’t fight it. Stay under. You’re fine.”

  “I messed everything up,” he managed.  

“Hey, no. We’ll try again, we’ll establish some guidelines ok. You did good. You didn’t do anything wrong.”  

“Next time?”  

Tony pulled Steve toward him, until his head was resting in Tony’s lap. “Yeah, next time. What do you need me to do? We can do whatever you want.”

  “This is good,” Steve said.   

Tony kept carding his fingers through Steve’s hair.  

“Hey Tony,” Steve said.  

“Yeah.”

  “Can we watch Steam Boat Willie? Ma took me to see it once, when I was little.”

  “Yeah Steve.”  

Tony almost sounded fond. Steve wanted so much to belong to this man, to have more moments like this, but he was here, in the now. It felt so good to be touched, and Tony was holding him like he mattered, watching old cartoons with him. He tried not to fall asleep, tried to draw it out, but Tony’s fingers were so gentle in his hair that he drifted off, hoping that when he woke up, Tony would still be there.


End file.
